Custom Baked Murder

by Liz Mugavero

  “That’s great. She’s a nice lady. And that’s one less thing to worry about for your opening.” He bent down to pet Nutty and Benedict, both weaving between their legs. “You guys hungry?”

  “I have to get their breakfast. Oh! I forgot to tell you!” she exclaimed. “Nutty’s a magazine star!”

  “Sorry?”

  “Nutty,” she said impatiently. “Remember the Foodie magazine photographer?”

  “From Newport?” He nodded.

  “Nikki called me yesterday to tell me Nutty’s on the cover of the latest issue. I had no idea.”

  Jake laughed. “You’re kidding. His head’s going to be even bigger than it is already.”

  She kissed him good-bye and handed him a mug of coffee to go. As he backed out of the driveway, Brenna pulled to the curb. They conversed briefly through open windows before Jake drove off.

  “Morning,” Brenna sang as she came in with a pastry bag and a cardboard holder of coffees. “Jake said you guys were going to dinner tonight. I invited Scott and me. And I stopped by Izzy’s for something to get us going.”

  “Oh, man.” Stan peered inside the bag. “I need to work out for about three hours today. I’ve eaten nothing but sugar since yesterday.”

  “Stop.” Brenna dismissed her protests and started down the hall, prompting Stan to follow the bag. “You’re eating the pastry. It’s a chocolate chip breakfast cannoli. I figured you hadn’t been eating anyway. Scott said you were feeling sick yesterday when you were at the pub. Are you better now?”

  Oops. Her lie about why she’d been in Brenna’s apartment. She shook her head. “I was fine. Just tired. I needed to get away from the crowd.” She plucked the cannoli from the bag and bit in. “This is amazing,” she said through a mouthful. “And I’m glad you guys can come to dinner. How’d you get out of bartending? Your boss let you have a night off?” She winked.

  “Jake hired a couple extra people to give us a break. I think he’s getting ready for when your shop opens and wants to start freeing me up.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Okay with it?” Brenna laughed. “I told him to. I still want to bartend a couple nights a week, but I’m not dying to do it every night anymore. Especially since Scott works days. I said I’d be late-night backup tonight. So if they get crazy after ten or eleven I can jump in, or help with cleanup.” She took a sip of her coffee and picked up her own treat, waving it around. “But let’s talk about the cannoli. Amazing, right? She only makes them once a week.” Brenna took a bite of hers and closed her eyes while she chewed. “Which reminds me.” She swallowed, then went on. “We need to talk about that. For your shop. Having a special pup pastry once a week or once a month. Something to get people excited because you don’t have it all the time.”

  “I love that. And we can have contests to name the special pastry after one of the local animals. I’ve been thinking about other cool things we can do to engage people. I want the menu items named after our pets and some special pet friends from town, too.”

  “Yes! People love contests. You can do costumes, taste tests, all kinds of things. This is going to be great.” Brenna rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Are you keeping a list? Actually, it should be two lists. One for everything you want to do once we get rolling, and another for everything we need to do before we start. We should work on that this week.”

  The doorbell rang, jolting them both out of brainstorming mode. “Now what?” Stan sighed. “I hope it’s not another singing trio.”

  “Singing trio?” Brenna looked confused.

  “I’ll explain later.” Stan headed for the door, where the dogs already congregated. She jockeyed past them and yanked it open. Francie Tucker waited out front, anxiously clutching her pastel blue purse. She wore neat black pants, a button-down blouse, and sandals, and carried an apron over her arm.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Is it time to bake?”

  Chapter 29

  Mental head slap. Stan had completely forgotten she’d told Francie to come over today. At the same time, she felt weight lifting off her shoulders.

  “Good morning. Perfect timing,” she said, motioning her inside. “Brenna and I were just getting to the part where we’re completely overwhelmed.”

  Francie laughed. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Hello, babies.” She knelt down to greet the dogs, who all crowded around her, sniffing and vying for pets. “You’re never lacking for taste testers, I’d guess?”

  “Never. And the cats are just as bad. Come on in.” She led her down the hall to the kitchen.

  Francie followed, admiring the house. “This place is beautiful, Stan. You’ve made it feel so homey. Oh, look!” she exclaimed in delight as Nutty appeared, brushing against Francie’s legs. “Hello, gorgeous.” She reached down to pet him. “I adore cats. I lost my Mickey last year. He was my son’s cat. They loved each other very much.” Her face clouded over and she looked down at Nutty. “With them both gone, I’ve never been able to bring myself to get another. It’s just Cooper and me now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stan said, not sure what else to say.

  Francie remained on one knee petting Nutty for another minute, then rose. “Thank you,” she said. “How many cats do you have?”

  “Two,” Stan said, relieved to turn the conversation back to lighter topics as she led Francie down the hall. “I moved here with one—not just one cat, one pet!—and, well, the family expanded. Hey, Bren,” she said as they entered the kitchen. “I forgot to tell you.” She stepped aside and presented Francie with a flourish. “We have a new employee!”

  “Yay! Hi, Ms. Tucker!” Brenna came over and hugged Francie.

  “Please. It’s Francie,” she said, but she looked delighted at the warm welcome. “I’m so pleased you girls are allowing me to join you.”

  “Are you kidding?” Brenna said. “I’ve tasted your cookies. The furries are in for a treat.”

  “You’re too sweet.” Francie deposited her purse on the counter and tied her apron around her waist. “Where should I start?”

  Brenna showed her the whiteboard with the orders, then handed her the recipe card for the Cheezy Bacon Bites. “This one’s up next.”

  Brenna gathered ingredients and showed Francie where everything was. Nutty perched in his usual spot on the counter, eyes glued to the food-related activity. Stan watched them all with a smile. People “worked for her” in her old life, but it was different. Those were coworkers, mostly thrown together by someone else’s choice. Here, she was building out a real team who shared in her mission to make people’s four-legged friends healthier. People she wanted to be around. She felt truly blessed.

  “While you guys bake, do you mind if we talk through some plans?” Stan asked. “I do have a couple of things to do out of the house today, but if we can keep brainstorming that would be so helpful.”

  “Let’s do it,” Brenna said. Francie nodded in agreement.

  “So we have three work streams to focus on.” Stan grabbed a pad of paper off her precariously high pile of mail on the end of the counter and sat at the kitchen table. “We have the café design and planning, which Char is going to help with, too. Then we have the regular treat and meal orders to fill. And our new client. How many is that?”

  Brenna checked her notes. “Three dozen by Friday. They said an assortment of our top sellers is fine.”

  “Cool. And I can deliver those. I want to check the shop out.” Stan always made it a point to visit any store than offered to sell her treats to make sure it was up to her standards. “Then finally we have the opening and ongoing stuff like menus, promotions, website, and social media.”

  “I think we need to hire an official Web person to do the design,” Brenna said. “I have the components sketched out, but you need a professional.”

  “Fine with me. Do you have someone in mind?”

  Brenna beamed. “I do, actually. One of my friends from school just started her own graphic design bus
iness. She’s trying to build her name, too, so she won’t charge a million bucks. And she’s not jam-packed, schedule-wise, right now. Want me to call her?”

  “Yes,” Stan said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Awesome.” Brenna pulled out her phone and shot off a text, then looked expectantly at Stan. “I’m working on a social strategy, too. We have to stay more on top of Twitter and Instagram. I’m failing you. But I’ve got that work stream covered. All you need to do is approve stuff.”

  “I’m good at social media, too,” Francie said.

  They both looked at her.

  “What?” she asked, indignant. “I use it all the time for my business. And for the church, too.”

  Before she could explore that any further, Stan’s cell rang. She picked it up and looked at the name, cringing a little. Her mother. “Sorry, guys. Be right back.” She grabbed the phone and walked into the hall before answering.

  “Morning,” she said, trying to sound cheery. “How are you doing today?”

  “I’m fine,” her mother said briskly. “I’m heading to your shop. Please meet me there. I have the contractor coming over. We need to get moving on this kitchen design.”

  “The contractor? You mean Frank? When did you talk to Frank?”

  “I called his office. A member of his crew is meeting me. I told them I preferred Frank because we needed to make some decisions, but I’m not sure he’s available. What time can you get there?”

  “Mom.” Stan moved away from the kitchen so Brenna and Francie couldn’t hear. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you and Tony talked? I’ve been trying to call you. After everything that happened this weekend, you really don’t need to—”

  “Kristan. I’m fine, and if you want to open a quality shop on time, we can’t keep procrastinating. Now, I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes, or else I’m going to have to design your kitchen myself.” And she disconnected, not giving Stan a chance to decline.

  Stan gritted her teeth. “Why?” she demanded. “Why do I put up with this? I told Jake this is how it would be, but does he listen?” Still grumbling, she turned and found Brenna standing in front of her, eyes wide. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Brenna’s gaze traveled over her shoulder, then back. “I was going to the bathroom. Everything okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “My darling mother. And then myself.”

  Brenna grinned, getting it. “Sorry. What’s going on now?”

  “What’s going on? Let’s see. My family has completely invaded my happy place. And not only have they invaded it, but they’ve brought all their drama along with it. And now I have to go to my shop, because my mother has decided that, despite the fact that someone was murdered in her house this weekend, today’s the day to design my kitchen.” She paused for a breath. “What else did you want to know?”

  “Jeez. That’s enough. But don’t worry. We’ve got stuff handled here. We’ll be cranking out the treats.”

  “I’m jealous,” Stan said. “You sure you don’t want to go meet with my mother about the kitchen?”

  Brenna patted her on the shoulder. “I adore you, but no.”

  “Thanks a bunch. I’ll remember that.”

  Chapter 30

  Stan slipped on a pair of sneakers and a sweatshirt and grabbed Scruffy’s leash. Her schnoodle stood at attention until Stan fastened it on her collar, then led the way out to the car. The other dogs accepted staying behind, understanding their duty was to keep an eye on the kitchen goings-on.

  When Scruffy was her only dog, she’d gone everywhere with Stan. While Frog Ledge was already an animal-friendly town, Scruffy completely charmed the rest of the town and became an honorary guest in most establishments. She frequently visited the library, the senior center, and Izzy’s to see her friends. Plus, whenever Stan tried to leave without her, she pouted and used her saddest face to get her to reconsider.

  Henry liked to go out, but he wasn’t as much of a social butterfly as Scruffy. Usually he was content to go for a walk, then go home and snooze. Duncan went to the pub with Jake most days, and Gaston happily went where anyone wanted to take him. Scruffy, however, demanded to be included. Maybe today she could provide a furry diversion.

  On her way to the shop Stan called Jessie in her office. “Is Richard going to court today?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Jessie said flatly. “Or rather, he already went. In at nine, done by nine-oh-nine. According to a source at the court.”

  “Done?” Stan asked. “So what happened?”

  “He pled not guilty. His bail was set at two million.”

  “What?” Stan yelled, so loudly Scruffy jumped.

  “I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Jessie said dryly. “Given everything else.”

  “Still! He’s got no criminal record.” She stopped. “Does he?” Wouldn’t that be a kicker.

  “Nope. But he’s being held on a murder charge. He’s not technically from this community, even though he lives in the state. They’re playing hardball, Stan.”

  “So he has to stay there?” Stan felt a heaviness in her chest thinking of Richard staring at the walls of a jail cell. He’d been a jerk, but no one deserved this. At least, no one innocent. And her gut screamed, Wrong Guy.

  “No. Someone posted bail.”

  Stan almost dropped the phone. “At two million bucks? Who likes him that much?”

  The strangled sound Jessie made might’ve been a cough, or a laugh. “Are you happy he’s out or not?”

  “I’m happy. But wow. That’s a lot of money. So what’s going to happen next?”

  Jessie lowered her voice. “I’m working on it, okay? I’m running names from the party on the down-low, just to see if anyone has a criminal background. I managed to get pictures of the guest lists before we had to turn them over to the captain. And I’ve got some friends who are looking a little deeper into Tony for me. Any news on your end?”

  Shoot. She’d meant to call Cyril today to see if he had intel on Tony. “I’m meeting my mother now about something else. I’ll see if I can work the job into the conversation. I’ll keep you posted.”

  She disconnected and pulled into the parking lot next to Patricia’s car. Letting the engine idle for a moment, she focused on the building, envisioning how it would soon look with two- and four-legged customers spilling out the doors, sitting in the outside patio area, having impromptu playdates made better by her baking.

  Her pretty little storefront on Main Street was tucked between the dry cleaner and an ice cream shop, the latter of which fit in nicely with the going-out-for-a-snack theme. Izzy’s place was right around the corner, and Jake’s pub and the new bookstore-to-be were two minutes down Main Street in the other direction. Main Street met the north end of the green almost in the middle of Izzy’s and Jake’s, and her house was at the south end of the green. Something else to love about her new town—everything she cared about was in a two-mile radius.

  Holding the happy vision of the finished product in her head, she turned to Scruffy. “I’m not going to let Grammy rattle me, Scruffy. We’re going to stay focused on the end goal. Having the best pet patisserie around.”

  Scruffy wagged her stubby tail. Satisfied they were in agreement, they went to the unlocked front door. Scruffy strained at the leash, overcome by the new smells. She heard voices from the kitchen area and headed that way.

  Her mother was on the phone, alternately talking to someone and barking orders at a scraggly looking guy who furiously took notes. Not Frank. He’d been smart and sent a minion.

  “I want a tile that’s not going to wear in a year,” her mother was saying. “An Italian marble, preferably.” She nodded to Stan, then held up a finger.

  Italian marble? How the heck much would that cost? Shaking her head, Stan ducked out of the kitchen and went up front to look around.

  She stood in the middle of the room imagining how it would look as Scruffy did a perimeter sniff. Th
e walls would be happy, sunny yellow or lime green. She hadn’t yet decided which. A small half-wall needed to go up, separating the café area to the left from the rest of the store. She’d have a seating area with doggie beds and couches as well as human tables and chairs. She’d already ordered her café tables and convinced Jake’s bartender Sean, who dabbled in woodworking, to make fancy wooden stands for dog bowls. The town lost its longtime woodworker last year, and it was a void. Maybe Sean could fill those shoes.

  Outside of the café area would be the counter and two pastry cases, a large one with dog treats and a smaller one for the cat treats. If she could sort out who’d make them, but that was a problem for later. She’d already talked to Izzy about supplying coffee and some human pastries so pets and owners could enjoy their snacks together. Outdoor seating for the summer months was a must-have, too, and would likely attract people hitting up the ice cream shop next door.

  She couldn’t wait.

  “Kristan, hello. So glad you could make it.” Her mother’s voice, slightly sarcastic, permeated her happy place. She concentrated hard on keeping the smile in place as she turned. The contractor stood next to her mother. He looked stressed.

  “Hi. What’s going on?” She stayed where she was, but Scruffy bounded over to say hello. The contractor smiled and knelt down so she could give him a kiss. Patricia didn’t seem to notice her.

  “I’m making sure the contractors understand what kind of kitchen we want,” Patricia said in her Isn’t it obvious voice.

  Scraggly rose and shot Stan an apologetic look before refocusing on his notes.

  We? Stan stepped forward and offered her hand. “Hi. Stan Connor. This is my shop,” she explained.

  “Kevin,” he said. “I work for Frank. He had another job this morning.”

  “No worries,” Stan said. “We didn’t have an appointment.”

  “And good customer-oriented firms are flexible,” Patricia said.

  Stan clenched her teeth. She’d need dentures if her mother didn’t leave town soon.

  “I wanted to make sure our efforts weren’t stalling out, so I asked for a walk-through,” Patricia continued. “I think we’re on a good track now.” She nodded at Kevin. “Let’s reiterate. Two commercial stoves, stainless steel. Kristan, is gas available here, or do you need electric?”